Black Light Special
by McFiddleStan
Summary: Bucky is the newest resident at Avengers Tower. He spends his nights cooped up in his room reading, until eventually he ventures out and runs into the resident Avengers' ward, Loki. Bucky tries to keep to himself—especially knowing of what Loki did to New York—but soon enough, the mischievous Asgardian has charmed his way past Bucky's walls. / Post-CAWS, WinterFrost


**A/N: So it took me awhile but I finally finished a random WinterFrost prompt from assxmilate on tumblr.**

 **It didn't follow it exactly, but I think I got the gist of it. There's probably way too much plot, haha. Hope you like it anyway. Here's the prompt:**

 **"I just imagine a world where Bucky and Loki are both 'redeemed' more or less and living at the Tower with their respective blond guardian/sponsor people. And maybe it starts as a brOTP, being unable to sleep and having drinks late at night when everyone else is asleep and/or out on missions that they haven't been invited to 'for their own safety', but they both know it's because the team doesn't 100% trust them yet.**

 **But they start sharing stories and Bucky already kinda knows what Loki did when he came to Earth, but now he's hearing it firsthand from Loki. And he just punches the ever living shit out of him for the mind control bullshit because he knows what that's like not to have control and he's pretty pissed about it. And Loki is stunned but then he's actually cool about it because the little shit knows he deserves it.**

 **And then eventually their talks get deeper and the drinks get stronger and they end up fucking on the bar and everyone else comes home [or someone wakes up (probably Tony) or Tony's checking the security footage later when Jarvis says there's something of note on the feed], and they're just like…'Hi guys.' And THOR and Steve are all… *eye twitch* but then Thor's just all 'GLAD YOU ARE MAKING FRIENDS.' and someone coughs and swiftly everyone exits the room."**

 **xoxo, La**

* * *

" _No, no, no, and no! Not happening! Not here! And did I mention? No!"_

" _What, one psychopathic murderer isn't enough for you?"_

" _Oh, come on, fellas. He needs a place to stay. The others don't mind. I already asked."_

A metal hand curled into a fist as cobalt blue eyes stared, unmoving, at the view outside the window of the lounge of Avengers Tower. He'd told Steve it wouldn't have worked. It didn't matter that he wasn't an asset for HYDRA anymore. That HYDRA had gone into hiding as much as the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. had. That he was no longer a ruthless killer—unless he was paid the right price. No one would be able to sleep peacefully knowing that the friendly neighborhood assassin was in the next room down the hall.

Acclimating to life in the twenty-first century hadn't gone as easily for James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes as it had for Steve "Captain America" Rogers. Bucky was still struggling with the idea of being able to carry a portable telephone in his pocket; the length of his knowledge of new technology had, up to this point, extended only to weapons. Steve was fascinated by _everything_ ; every time he discovered something new, he rushed to show it to Bucky. And Bucky didn't always share his enthusiasm.

When Steve suggested living at the Tower, Bucky knew none of the other Avengers would agree. And now he had to stand there and listen to them discuss him like he was some kind of inanimate object, whose position on the mantel they were arguing over. From what he could gather, Barton and Stark were the biggest opposers. He understood perfectly. He assumed Barton was sore that a man from his lover's past had suddenly reappeared—not that he had anything to be concerned about. Whatever had existed between he and Natasha—which he could barely recall—was long over.

And, aside from other reasons Bucky would rather not bring to Stark's attention, it was legally his tower. He had final say.

And there was Steve, going to bat for him, like the best friend he was. It wasn't so much that Bucky didn't appreciate it. But, now that he could remember most things where Steve was concerned, he was more comfortable in the position of defender than defendee.

"Stark will give in," a husky voice murmured from behind him.

Bucky didn't move to look at Natasha; he knew she was there the moment she stepped into the room. She was no threat, so he didn't need to respond. " _Ты так думаешь_?" Her auburn hair came into his peripheral vision first, as she leaned back against the window he stood before.

"Eventually," she answered, in English, with a small, barely visible shrug. "He threw the same fit when Thor asked to bring Loki in. So did Clint." He looked at her now, cocked a brow in silent question. Her lips twitched up. "It's been over two years now. And we haven't had any incidents."

He looked back out the window. "How did everyone adjust?" He asked the question in English this time.

"Didn't take much," she said, crossing her arms under her breasts. It must have been her day off, Bucky thought, judging by Natasha's dressed down attire of a plain black t-shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of shoes with a white dash across the sides, similar to a pair Steve had bought for him. Nikes, Steve had called them. He preferred his sturdy black boots.

Day off or not, he knew her well enough to know there were at least five or six weapons hidden somewhere on her person. Always prepared.

"He's actually not so bad when he's not trying to take over the world. He's the only one, besides Steve, that can train with Thor and not get majorly injured. Him and I have knife-throwing contests once in awhile. And he lets Tony and Bruce do their science thing with his blood and magic on occasion. And he's fed us some pretty good intelligence."

"Hm." He didn't laugh; just made a simple sound acknowledging she was making an attempt at lightheartedness. "I wasn't going for world domination, _лицо куклы_. I killed people. A lot of people. People they know."

"He killed Coulson." The loose strands of hair hanging around Bucky's face went flying as he turned his head to look at the redhead. "He was important to all of us, and they brought him back. But...Loki did pierce him in the chest with his sceptre. If they can forgive that, I'm sure they can forgive your elaborate résumé, _солдат_."

Bucky's jaw clenched unwittingly, and he turned his blue eyes to the clear autumn sky that nearly matched in color. "Don't call me that."

"Don't call me ' _лицо куклы_.' Especially in front of Clint."

"It won't be an issue. They won't let me stay."

Natasha breathed a quiet laugh, straightening from the window to playfully punch her fist to Bucky's shoulder. "Lighten up, Barnes. Stark's curiosity over that arm might just be incentive enough to let you stay."

"Tasha." Both of the assassins looked to Clint as he stepped out from the kitchen, where the meeting had taken place. His piercing gaze stayed on Bucky for a moment before sliding back to the redhead. "We got a meeting."

"I know." Her brows rose, questioning Clint. The unhappy look on his face told her what she needed to know. Her lips pressed together as she attempted, and failed, to not smile. "Welcome to Avengers Tower," she murmured to Bucky before crossing the room to join Clint at the door leading out of the room.

"Huh?" Bucky watched her for a moment before looking toward the kitchen. Steve emerged just as the they left, a bright smile on his face.

"You're in." His arms were spread wide, and before Bucky could move out of reach, they were wrapped around him, giving him a squeeze that forced the air out of his lungs a little faster than was normal.

"Really?" Bucky was dumbfounded.

Steve stepped back, nodded. "Really! Why don't I show you where you'll be staying?" He slipped an arm around Bucky's shoulders and started to lead him over to the elevator.

"But—uh, shouldn't I say something to Stark? Thank you, or something?"

"Don't thank me, Jon Snow," Tony mumbled from behind a giant coffee mug that had _World's Greatest Everything_ printed in black block letters across it as he shuffled into the room.

The two men he'd just spoken to shared a confused look. Steve simply shrugged it off, as he usually did.

"Just don't break my shit with your bionic arm. And be in my lab Monday morning at…" He grunted softly. "Let's shoot for ten am. Explain the rules, Rogers."

"Thanks, Tony."

Tony waved a hand dismissively before he disappeared somewhere down a hall as Bucky followed Steve onto the elevator. "There are rules here? And what's this about meeting him in his lab?"

"Don't worry. He won't do anything you're not comfortable with. I made sure of it. But, part of the deal of letting you stay is that he gets to check out your arm. Maybe he'll make some improvements."

Said appendage whirred and clicked as Bucky lifted it to run his metal fingers through his hair. "Jeez, Stevie…"

"Oh, come on, Buck, it's not so bad." Steve gave him another half-jostle, half-hug. "I'll give you a tour of the whole place later. Show you where everything is. First, we'll check out your room. See if you think you might need anything."

Bucky sighed and spared his old friend a glance. "Is there a bed?"

"Yeah," Steve chuckled.

"Is there a dresser?"

"Of course."

"Is there a door?"

Steve sighed, making a face. "Bucky."

"That's all I need, Steve."

Steve released him, not letting Bucky's sour mood ruin his, a bright smile still curving his lips. "Humor me then, all right? It could be fun. Hey, maybe now we can build that sofa fort. And if you're lucky, I'll be nice and shine your shoes. For _free_." He nudged Bucky with his elbow, and had the assassin rolling his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me."

* * *

After months of sleeping on a hard slab of a cot down at the local Y—which the former soldier was pleasantly surprised to find still existed—the full-sized soft mattress was quite a change for Bucky. And not a very welcoming one.

Life at Avengers Tower had not been an easy adjustment.

The man formerly known as the Winter Soldier found it difficult to assimilate to civilian life. His training by Hydra had been intense, at this point ingrained deep in his bones; as natural as breathing. His senses were constantly on alert, muscles tensing at every small noise. Aside from Steve, the others weren't exactly rushing to spend long amounts of time in a room alone with him. The first session in Stark's lab had been cut short when an instant reflex reaction on Bucky's part nearly had Dr. Banner turning green—which apparently was _not_ a good thing.

The nights were the worst. Sleep was difficult for him to find these days. Nearly three months in the tower, and Bucky still felt like a visitor. Usually, he stayed in his room and lost himself in a book. Stark had a vast library and Bucky had always been an avid reader. What else was a guy supposed to do on cold nights trying to keep his sick best friend's spirits up?

But on this particular night, Bucky decided to wander out. He figured it was safe, what with everyone asleep, or at the very least, hidden away in their own bedrooms. He headed for the kitchen in the darkened tower—though with his extremely acute eyesight he could see perfectly fine. Entering the room, Bucky caught the scent of coffee and traces of the pasta the others had had for dinner, and headed straight for the refrigerator.

"There is coffee, if you like."

Bucky spun into a defensive stance, unsheathing the knife he kept on him at all times, holding it at face level, ready to attack. His gaze was fixed on the figure sitting at the table, obviously the source of the voice he'd heard, and he tightened his grip on the knife at the movement of hands raising, palms out.

"I mean no harm," the soft, deep voice spoke smoothly.

Several moments passed before Bucky lowered the knife. It was only when the refrigerator started to beep, a warning it had been open too long, that Bucky stepped away from it and closed it with his foot. His blue eyes were still trained on the shadowed figure as he stepped closer to the coffeemaker.

Relaxing, the shadowed man lowered his hands and brought a steaming mug to his mouth. "Though, if you are having trouble sleeping, drinking that will not help."

Tucking the knife away, Bucky turned his back, his body still rigid with tension, ready to attack if need be, as he pulled out a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Doesn't seem to be bothering you," he mumbled back.

"I do not require sleep quite like your human form does, Mr…?"

Bucky dropped some sugar into his mug, but said nothing.

A throat cleared. "Apologies. I am not sure how I am to address you."

Bucky's jaw clenched. His instinct had been to answer, 'The Asset.' Breathing out slowly, just the way Steve taught him, he turned to face the other. "They told me—…Barnes," he decided. "You can call me Barnes." Satisfied, he started for the door.

"Barnes," the other male very nearly purred. "I am Loki. If you were wondering."

Bucky didn't pause. "I wasn't."

After that first encounter, when Bucky entered the kitchen late at night, there was an empty mug waiting for him next to a fresh pot of coffee.

* * *

Loki never pushed the newest resident of Stark Tower to stay and converse with him. He figured if and when he was ready for any company, the former Hydra assassin would join him.

As it was, the late-night hours were the god's favorite time of the day in the Tower. He didn't have eyes on him, suspiciously watching his every move—at least, no eyes he could see. He imagined Stark had his voice-in-the-ceiling watching him when he physically could not. And he didn't have Thor constantly hounding him to spar with him or speak of old times in Asgard.

He simply had peace.

When he heard the stirrings of the Captain and the Widow, early risers both of them, he simply teleported back to his quarters and remained hidden until Thor came to fetch him to break their fast.

After the debacle that was his attempt to take over New York, Loki had hoped to put Asgard, and his bad reputation, behind him. And be rid of the ball and chain that was his would-be family. Instead, he was forced back to Midgard, as punishment for his crimes, and as a ward of Thor and the Avengers, for an agreed upon five years. No one was happy with the arrangement—save for Thor.

Odin had bound Loki's magic, for a time, leaving him no choice but to obey. He couldn't very well defend himself against Thanos with naught but his words. And even in this, Thor came to Loki's rescue, eliminating the threat on Loki's life with the help of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, _and_ a few of the Avengers. Much to Loki's chagrin. Now he owed them all thanks.

That was well over a year ago, at this point. Loki, surprisingly, had grown accustomed to living in the tower. And while he hadn't grown very close to his tower-mates, nor engaged often with any of them aside from Thor and the Widow, and occasionally allowed Stark and Banner to use him for experiments—once his magic was fully restored—he found he rather enjoyed living in Midgard.

He had noticed that no one bothered to consult him about the newest addition to the tower. Not that he had an opinion. People came and went constantly from the tower; friends and acquaintances of Stark's treated it almost as an inn, occupying a room when they passed through. The metal-armed one could likely be the same.

Loki remembered the commotion surrounding the Winter Soldier, as he heard him referred to in passing the day he arrived, and the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd watched it all from the safety of his bedroom. Thor had been away for business in Vanaheim in place of Odin; Stark was busy putting the pieces of his life back together, at someplace called Malibu. The tower had been all abuzz, concerned about the safety of Captain Rogers and the others. It was all a confusing time for them.

Loki hadn't really cared, if he was honest. It didn't concern him; he was never consulted, so he carried on with his own business. Not to say he wasn't curious about Barnes. In time, he would learn what he needed to know.

Walking out onto one of the many balconies of the tower, Loki was happy that the weather had turned near freezing again. The warmer weather in the summer didn't bother him too much, but he had taken to wearing clothes of thinner, more breathable material than his usual leather and metal attire during those long summer days, and mostly stayed indoors. With the lower temperatures keeping everyone inside, and the snow stopping them from traveling unnecessarily, Loki found his only escape these days was out on the various balconies and terraces, breathing in the biting, icy air.

Cup of coffee in hand, he stepped out onto a snow-littered balcony on a rather chilly night. It wasn't very late yet, and the restlessness of the others had begun to irk him, as everywhere he turned he was faced with a so-called Avenger. Moving toward the railing at the edge of the balcony, nudging aside smalls mounds of snow, Loki set his elbows to rest over it and sipped from his mug.

Keen viridian eyes roaming across the patches of city between the lower-lying clouds, the deity swallowed more coffee, his lips curving at the corners as it traveled down his throat. "There is a pot of fresh coffee and a waiting mug on the kitchen counter for you," he spoke quietly into the night.

A moment of silent hesitation passed before Bucky stepped out from the shadows. "How did you know I was out here?" He moved to the railing, but not near Loki.

"I didn't actually." Loki didn't look the other's way either as he spoke, instead watching the lights of an aircraft traveling by. "I only heard your breathing when I came out." He glanced over then to catch Bucky's incredulous face, tapped a long finger to his ear. "My hearing is a tad more acute than the average human's."

Bucky made a quiet, gruff noise under his breath. "That's the second time you've said something like that. About being different than a human." Loki simply cocked a brow as he sipped at his coffee. "Is it true then? Are you an…alien?"

The god chuckled, lowered his mug again. "I suppose that would depend on your definition of an alien."

Bucky motioned with his metal hand, catching the spare light of the moon on the exposed fingers. "Someone not of this world?"

Loki shifted against the rail, leaning on one elbow as he faced Bucky. "You are not of _this_ world. Does that make _you_ an alien?" Even in the dimness of the balcony, Loki could see the bright blue of Bucky's eyes as he stared, silently, for several long seconds.

"You got a point," he finally conceded.

Lips twitching, Loki looked out at the city once more. "I am not that different from your race. I breathe oxygen, I bleed, I age, albeit at a much slower rate. I suppose the greatest differences would be the length of my life and my powers."

"Powers?"

Loki didn't miss the scoff in Bucky's voice.

"What are you, a magician?"

Loki stiffened immediately, eyes flashing to near black. "I am no mere _magician_ , Barnes. I am a god. I am a sorcerer. I have spent millennia honing my skills. I wasn't simply _taught_ ; I was born with these powers surging through my blood. It is a living, breathing part of who and what I am."

Bucky's eyes danced, and he had to fight the urge to smile when he realized he must have angered the god. "All right, cool your heels, Houdini. I know what you're all about." Loki's head tilted to the side and it was Bucky's turn to lean on the railing, crossing one booted foot over the other. "I've read S.H.I.E.L.D.'s file on you."

Eyes rolling—and fading back to their normal viridian—Loki turned away, almost as if he was bored. "Have you? Impressed?"

"Oh, sure," Bucky snorted. "Takes a big man to kill eighty people in two days. Oh, sorry—a god."

Loki's chin lifted defiantly, sparing the assassin a sideways glance. "Hm. Remind me again what you spent the last fifty years doing, _soldier_."

A quick shift had Bucky straightening, his jaw clenching. "Don't call me that," he muttered between his teeth.

A smug smirk curved pale red lips. "But that is what you are. Are you not? You know, I was simply trying to right the wrong done to me, live up to my birthright, and emulate the man who dared call himself my father. A few humans get in the way, and suddenly I'm a monster. I did not aim to annihilate an entire species like—"

Loki's words were interrupted as Bucky pulled a knife from somewhere behind his back and held it to the deity's slim, pale neck, pushing him back from the railing. " _Eighty_." Loki tensed his muscles, firmed his stance, but he made no effort to argue with Bucky. "Not _a few_. Not _a handful_. You killed eighty _innocent_ people, _ублюдок_. You brainwashed a good man."

Loki acknowledged that Bucky was possibly personalizing on that one and pressed his lips together, for once, censoring himself. People so often forgot that he was under the spell of the Tesseract, too.

"You destroyed without purpose. You endangered lives. Including my best friend's."

A slim black brow twitched, before the god coolly cocked one high. "The one with the shield or the woman?" he asked in a low deep rumble.

Bucky leaned in, pressing the blade more into Loki's throat. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slit your throat right now."

His eyes narrowing, Loki smirked darkly. "Attempt it. And you will be dead before you pierce my skin."

Bucky started to question what Loki meant, going still when he felt the point of a particularly sharp blade in the center of his chest, directly over his heart. He let out a sharp breath of surprise, having been caught off guard, and looked up at Loki. "How—?"

"A _god_ ," Loki reiterated with a challenging glare, leaning into the knife at his throat, feeling it against his Adam's apple as he spoke. And glared down at Bucky. "It took six of them to stop me. Do you think you could fare better on your own?"

Bucky eyed him steadily, his brow furrowed, fingers tightening around the handle of his knife, and his jaw muscles working because there was something very soothing, almost seductive, about the other's voice. Confusing.

" _Bucky, where are you?_ "

Steve's voice broke into the palpable tension on the balcony, but neither god nor soldier blinked or moved for several seconds. Loki could see in Bucky's eyes that he wouldn't do anything—at least, not this time—but he only relaxed after Bucky pulled the knife away from his throat.

Steve called for Bucky again, and he stepped back, re-sheathing the knife as he called out, "I'll be right in."

Giving his own blade a quick flip, Loki made it vanish and relaxed the muscles of his shoulders. "Perhaps one of these evenings you will allow me to tell you my side of the story." Bucky gave an almost imperceptible tilt of his head; an indifferent non-agreement. "You may be surprised to find I am no more to blame than you."

"You think so?"

Loki nodded once, keeping his eyes fixed on Bucky. "You are not the only victim in this tower…James."

For a moment Bucky looked stricken by the use of his first name. But the expression quickly disappeared. He blinked, pivoted and turned to leave.

Relaxing fully now, Loki sighed unhappily when he looked down and realized he had spilled his coffee.

" _Loki!_ "

Viridian rolled again at the familiar roar of his brother. He called for Loki again, clearer this time, and closer, as Loki saw Thor's shadow from the balcony above him when he flipped on a light. "Quit your bellowing! I am here," he snapped.

A blond head peeked over the edge, and Loki shot an irritated glance up. "Oh. Come up to my quarters, would you? I have news from Asgard." He disappeared as quickly as he had popped up and Loki made a sour face to himself before turning toward the entrance back into the tower, throwing out a hand to make the mess of his coffee disappear.

"Oh, goody."

* * *

Walking into the gym area, Bucky came to a stop, glancing around. He spotted Steve first, doing arm curls while he sat at a workout bench. Natasha and Bruce were posing in some strange contorted positions in front of a mirror. And Tony was running on an elliptical machine, he remembered it being called, while talking into a device in his ear. Silently, he recalled that Thor had departed to Asgard for royal duties, but Clint was nowhere to be seen. Bucky crossed the room toward Steve and picked up a fifty pound weight on the way, mirroring Steve's movements as he sat on the bench beside the blond.

Steve paused, watching with a soft grin aimed at his friend. The super-soldier had noticed Bucky seemed preoccupied as of late, but he promised his old friend he wouldn't bombard him with questions, making sure he was okay. The brunet had missed the last few sessions in the gym, and Steve wasn't about to scare him away again. But he was curious…

"Hey," he greeted softly.

Bucky flicked his blue eyes up at Steve, gave him a nod in reply.

Steve continued his slow pace, lifting the weight with very little effort, and looked down at his arm, watching the tendons and muscles contract, as he casually said, "Haven't seen you around much the last few days."

Bucky's movements faltered slightly before he continued lifting the weight, grateful Steve hadn't been paying attention.

"You doing all right?"

He breathed a chuckle and their gazes met. "I'm fine, Steve. You don't have to watch me every minute you know."

"I know. I just…I wanna make sure you're adjusting and…making friends." Bucky gave him a horrified look of confusion and the blond had to pause his arm curls, laughing hard because he hadn't seen that look on Bucky's face in quite some time. "I don't know! You know what I mean."

Smiling, albeit lopsidedly and with a hint of derision, Bucky chuckled with him. "I think I do know, pal. I'm…I'm doing just fine."

Steve's laughter died down gradually, noting the hesitation in Bucky's voice, his brow furrowing briefly. "How's it going with Stark in the lab?"

Bucky breathed out a quiet breath, glancing down at his metal appendage, pausing his arm curls on the other as Steve picked up his again. He flexed his metal fingers, sending a clicking wave up to his shoulder. "Not bad. He thinks he can make some improvements. Might make me a whole new one."

The man beside him went still. "A whole new arm?"

More whirs and clicks sounded as Bucky twisted his arm this way and that, nodding in response to Steve's question. "Denser metal. Less likely to get damaged." Flicking his eyes up, he grinned, jutted his chin at Steve. "Said he was going to try to find the same stuff your shield is made out of."

A snort escaped the blond before he could stop it. "You wish."

"Shut up, punk." He relaxed a little more, comfortable in finding his rapport with Steve again. He leaned his metal arm on his leg, tensing only slightly when Clint walked in. He had respect for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, knew how important he was not only to the team, but to Natasha. But they had yet to really speak to each other and eliminate any awkwardness or tension between them. If Bucky ever got the chance to join them in the field, he'd need the archer's trust.

"Hey, I was thinking…"

Steve continued speaking, but Bucky wasn't listening. He was watching Clint and Natasha with quiet interest. He followed Clint with only his eyes as the shorter man walked into the gym and dropped to the mat in front of Natasha and Bruce. He didn't make any attempt to match their contorted positions, but he began to speak to Natasha in hushed tones. Barely half a minute passed before Bruce said something to Natasha and gracefully got to his feet before heading over to the treadmill Tony had moved to.

Bucky hadn't realized he had slowed his arm curls, coming to a complete stop as he watched Bruce gently lay a hand over Tony's.

"Buck?" He hummed in question making Steve chuckle. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

Blinking out of his quasi-trance, Bucky looked at the blond, shook his head. "No. Sorry. I, uh…" He snuck another peak at Bruce and Tony again. "I didn't."

This time Steve followed his gaze, smiling softly as he realized what Bucky was looking at. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not polite to stare?"

Bucky looked away quickly, a little embarrassed at being caught, and grinned at Steve before dropping his eyes again. "Once, maybe. But I never listened to her."

"Don't I know it." Steve flicked his gaze up in time to catch Bucky glancing at the pair on the treadmill again, and lowered the weight in his hand to the floor. "It's different now, you know."

Bucky didn't need to ask what Steve meant. It was a tricky subject to navigate between them. It always had been; the time they'd lost together hadn't changed that, or made it any easier. There were certain things one didn't speak of in public. Apparently that had changed in the new millennium. Bucky's jaw worked a little before he finally replied under his breath, "Is it?"

Steve started to unwrap one hand, nodding but not looking at Bucky. "It's not illegal anymore—at least, not in most places, I think. You don't really have to sneak around. There are still problem areas, but…it's different now." He looked at Bucky again, then to Tony and Bruce, now laughing together, fingers discreetly linked even as Tony gestured wildly with his free hand, and Steve jutted his chin toward the two men. "And _that_ …it's really good. For both of them."

Bucky continued to watch the scientific pair, noticing how much more guarded they were in their affections with one another outside the lab. He nodded silently, mostly to acknowledge that he'd heard Steve. His lips curved in a crooked half-hearted grin. "What about you, Stevie? Have you…uh…?"

Steve's eyes followed Bucky's hand gestures and chuckled softly. "What? Been seeing anyone?" He pursed his lips, shook his head. "Too busy."

"Busy," he snorted. "Right. Doing what? Shaming everyone with your righteousness?" He only smiled when Steve nudged him with a weak shove.

"I think Wilson might've asked me out, though…hard to tell. I'm so lost when it comes to this stuff."

"It's not as difficult as you make it out to be, Stevie." He half smirked. "At least, _I_ think. You gonna go for it?"

The blond shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe. Natasha keeps talking that one agent up to me, too. Sharon, I think? She's made it her mission to get me on a date with _anyone_ it seems," he chuckled, leaned forward on his elbows. "You think you might ever get out there again?"

Struck silent, Bucky contemplated telling Steve about the heated kiss he had shared several nights ago with Loki, in the dark shadows of the living room. It was out of the blue, initiated mostly by himself, but he'd been avoiding coming out of his room at night ever since. Though, now, he couldn't stop thinking about the god. He wasn't sure how Steve would react, but if he didn't tell somebody soon he thought he might burst. "Well, actually—"

Everyone in the room went still, tensed as an alarm sounded and Jarvis' voice came through the telecoms.

" _Sir, the Avengers are needed…and it is a possible Code Green."_

Tony reached for Bruce's arm when the scientist took a step back, and glanced at Steve. At the Captain's nod, the billionaire started to tug the bespectacled man along with him and started out. "Send the coordinates to the quinjet and get my suit ready, J. Let's go, guys!"

Bucky rose to his feet in sync with Steve, watching them all rush out. "Hey…" Steve jerked to a stop, lifting a brow in question. "Need some backup out there?"

Steve's lips curved, but his brow furrowed in that pitying look that Bucky had come to hate. "Not this time, pal," he murmured through a soft smile, giving Bucky's flesh arm a light squeeze. "You're not…" Clipping his words, Steve's shoulders rose and fell quickly. "We're not ready to bring you in with us just yet."

They both knew what Steve actually meant: bar the Star-Spangled Man himself and maybe Romanov, no one trusted Bucky enough yet to be in the field with him. His pride took a hit, and this sudden instinct to be there fighting alongside Steve, watching his back, only seemed to sharpen. "Right," he muttered with a nod before he started to turn away.

Tony shouted for Steve again, and he frowned at the door, mildly irked by Tony's impatience. "On my way! Do you think you could do me a favor?"

Realizing Steve was talking to him, Bucky looked over at him as he lowered to a different bench than where he'd sat before. This one was for the bench press. "I promise nothing."

The blond breathed a laugh. "Consider it an order, Barnes."

Goddamn it if he didn't just perk up.

"Keep an eye on Loki?"

Bucky stilled, a certain four-letter word running repeatedly in his mind.

"Thor's not here. Bruce is coming along. And Pepper and Maria are away working. He's never been in the Tower alone. Just make sure he doesn't break anything, okay? Thanks, pal." He gave a dorky mock salute and ran out, leaving a deflated Bucky behind.

" _Дерьмо_."

* * *

Amused at the show of the Avengers rushing out to save the world again, Loki had been hiding in the shadows, watching as their ship departed. Standing behind the bar now, his back to the room, he mixed himself a drink from Stark's measly collection. Midgardian liquor hardly affected him, but it did give him a nice buzz, and at the moment, he could use it.

He had been more ornery than usual lately, irritation flowing through him as easily as his magic. His room was currently in disarray as he had broken a few things in his fits of temper. The kiss with Bucky had been unexpected, to say the least, but not at all unwelcome. Romance wasn't something at the forefront of the god's mind, less so in this hubbub of "superheroes," particularly his brother, who seemed to find it an enjoyable game hovering over him at every moment they were in the Tower together. But Loki had always made do when a certain mood struck.

It was a shame to him, though, that Bucky had decided to go out of his way to not be anywhere near Loki now—which he found confusing seeing as Bucky had made the first move. Not to say he hadn't been contemplating a rather forward advance himself. Perhaps it was bothering the deity more than he would care to admit.

Loki had just recapped a bottle of vodka when he heard the near-silent footsteps of Bucky entering the lounge, and his back stiffened. He sampled his impromptu concoction, humming softly, impressed that it tasted rather good. "I gather you did not warrant an invitation to the fray either?"

There was no immediate answer, but Loki did gather that Bucky had neared the bar. "No. Got put on god-sitting duty, though."

Viridian lifted from his drink, a sarcastic smirk just curving his lips, as Loki turned to face Bucky. "How dreadful for you," he deadpanned, taking small pleasure in the way the other man's brow twitched. "Forced to be in my company after you've worked so hard to avoid it."

He brought the glass to his lips, sipping as he looked out toward the windows. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky's face harden as he glanced down at his hands, folded on the bar. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Pardon?" Loki held a hand to his ear. "Did you say something?"

"I said sorry!"

Loki stared at him, unblinking, for several long moments, before finally asking, softly, "For what are you sorry, James?" Bucky's lips parted, but Loki interrupted him before he could speak. "Allowing me to get under your skin?"

Bucky froze, but for the muscles of his jaw clenching.

"Or," Loki continued, his tone taunting, angling his head to the side, and pursing his lips slightly, "ignoring me because you enjoyed it?"

Sharp cobalt eyes narrowed, studying Loki long enough to make the god shift, straighten. "You're hurt," Bucky bluntly pointed out causing green eyes to flare.

"Hurt? Please. Over a mortal?" His eyes dropped down to his drink as he took it in hand again. "Never," he practically spat.

"A mortal who rejected you," Bucky mumbled, eyeing that drink with interest. He did a double take when, with his glass halfway to his mouth, Loki stopped and flicked those bright green eyes to him. Knowing it might just send the god over the edge, Bucky simply cocked a brow.

"Can you call it rejection when you cannot even bring yourself to face me?" The glass in his hand fractured when he slammed it to the bar. Catching himself, Loki easily downed the rest, repaired and cleaned the glass with his magic, then replaced it under the bar. With a hard gaze aimed at Bucky, looking quite stupefied himself, he heaved a tight-lipped sigh, and silently started around the bar.

His face showed nothing, but inside Bucky was a swirling storm of emotions. And he didn't have a name for any of them, nor the faintest idea how to deal with them. Following the deity with only his eyes until he couldn't without turning his head, he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in. "Nobody's touched me like that in seventy years."

Halfway out of the room already, Loki came to a halt, more than a little surprised the assassin had just admitted that.

Bucky swallowed thickly, shocked himself, and dropped to a stool. "I…I forgot what it…felt like." His brow knitted, Loki turned to look over his shoulder, but Bucky had yet to turn to face him, remaining completely still. "I think I…I don't know. Panicked? Haven't felt that in awhile either."

His fingertips tapping together in front of him, Loki spoke softly. "It was only a kiss. I…I hardly started to touch you before you…"

Bucky moved finally, shaking his head. "'S been awhile."

Letting his hands fall to his side, Loki started back to the bar slowly, quietly. "You came from a different time. One not so accepting…?"

"Yeah…"

"Had you kissed a man before?"

After a moment, Bucky nodded his head slowly. His hands were resting flat on the bar and when he heard the crack under his metal hand, he quickly folded them up in his lap. Moving closer now, Loki could see Bucky clenching his jaw again. "What exactly made you panic, James?"

Silent for a few beats, the only move Bucky made was the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. "Mm…not sure," he mumbled.

Loki came to a stop just behind Bucky, raising his chin as he processed this information. "If it were to happen again…if _I_ were to kiss _you_ this time…" Bucky shifted his head a fraction toward Loki, and the deity focused his gaze on the back of his head. "What would you do?" By the Nine, he was counting the seconds after asking the question.

Bucky exhaled sharply once, loud in the relative quiet of the room, and spun on the stool, meeting Loki's gaze as he got to his feet. "Only one way to find out."

The words were barely out of Bucky's mouth before Loki closed the distance between them and crushed his lips to the soldier's. The kiss was heated, aggressive right off the bat; a week's worth of pent up sexual tension finally finding its outlet. Loki's long fingers slipped into Bucky's dark hair, loosening it from its tie, framing then scratching at his scalp, tugging on the dark strands, and manipulating the angle of his head to exactly where he wanted it.

The hands in his hair were working for Bucky. He had never bothered to cut it, thinking that the clean-cut boy in the pictures Steve had shown him was long gone. And if Loki was going to keep tugging on it the way he was doing, Bucky found he might prefer it longer for awhile. The noises sounding between them made his ears go hot, a spike of heat shot straight down to his groin. He'd never really gotten much of a taste of this before. Sneaking around dark alleys and secret clubs didn't leave a curious, good-looking kid like him, in that time, with many options. His heart gave a quick flutter imagining what Loki might have in mind for him tonight.

The soldier must have gotten lost in his thoughts, because suddenly Loki was taking those divine lips away from him. He probably should have been embarrassed by the whine that escaped him because of the loss, but frankly, he didn't give a damn right now.

"What?" he panted.

"Where did you go?" Loki demanded.

 _Shit_. "Nowhere. I'm here. I'm with you." Curling his fingers into the thin sweater Loki wore, Bucky pulled him flush against him. "Keep kissing me."

Allowing Bucky to pull him in for another scorching kiss, Loki moaned softly into it, his arms slinking around his neck. "Is that all you want, James?"

"Fuck, I love it when you call me that."

His signature smirk curving his mouth, Loki tipped Bucky's chin up, ducking his head, brushing his lips along that sturdy jaw. " _James_ …"

Breath coming fast and heavy, Bucky opened his clouded blue eyes, rolling them up, lost in pleasure. "I don't know. Mm." His hand slipped into Loki's hair, clenching tightly as the god licked at his throat. "Loki…I've never…"

Pausing the devouring of Bucky's neck, Loki leaned back to look into his eyes. "Never?" he asked with a hint of incredulity. Had no one ever noticed the man?

His eyes, nearly black now, bounced from Loki's, likely mirroring the haze of lust that had to be in his own, to the deity's puffy, wet lips. "Not with…ahem, a man."

The look of surprise on Loki's face melted into a playful expression. Trailing a finger over the skin just above the collar of Bucky's shirt, he leaned into the soldier. "'Tis not very different than with a woman, darling." He slid his hands down Bucky's chest to the drawstring of his workout pants, evoking a soft, surprised gasp from him, followed immediately by nervous laughter. "Tell you what." His deft, nimble fingers moved quickly to untie the string of Bucky's pants, and he slipped a hand inside, cupping Bucky lightly over his underwear.

" _Mmm_."

Smirking, Loki nibbled at Bucky's bottom lip. "Why don't I do my damnedest to make your knees tremble, and you stop me if anything doesn't feel right? Hmm?"

"Uh…" His pants dropped to pool around his ankles, his eyes on Loki's as the god dropped to his knees before him, lowering Bucky's black boxer briefs as he went. "Yeah, okay. H-how're you gonna— _oh_!"

A satisfied hum vibrated in his throat as Loki took Bucky's length into his mouth, and the soldier wobbled back against the bar to keep himself up. The god bobbed his head a few times, focused on the head as he stroked him to full hardness. Idly, Loki wondered how long it had been since Bucky was pleasured in this way. And perhaps it gave him a little ego boost to think he was the first in a very long time.

Bucky could barely control his breathing, feeling himself grow light-headed from the panting and the absolute pure pleasure spreading through his body. He hadn't realized how lost in the moment he was until a wooden crack broke through his stream of consciousness. "Shit!"

"What?" Loki looked up at Bucky, breathing heavily, lips parted, red, swollen, and wet. He still held Bucky's cock in his hand, and when the soldier glanced down at him. lust burned something bright in his belly. "What?"

"I broke a stool."

He scoffed softly. "I'll fix it later." He leaned in to mouth at Bucky's thigh, moving up to his balls.

"Wait, wait." Bucky laid a hand over Loki's at his hip, chuckling. "You're driving me nuts here."

Rising, Loki kept a hand over Bucky's cock, stroking lightly, and attached his mouth to his neck once more. "Are you complaining?"

Bucky let out a low moan, giving a testing thrust of his hips, "Hell no. But…seventy years, Loki. That's a helluva lot of built up tension."

Loki peeled himself away enough to lift his shirt over his head. "It's been quite awhile for me as well. Not seventy years, of course…"

Bucky almost didn't catch Loki's light-hearted jab. He was too busy staring, open-mouthed at the god, his eyes soaking up the pale chest and toned abdomen. "Wise guy," he muttered with a grin, reaching out, the pads of his fingers touching Loki's stomach before he laid a palm in the center of Loki's torso. His hand roamed up to his pectoral, brushing over a pert nipple, eliciting a soft hiss from the god. "You're kind of really…what do they say these days? Hot? Though, I'd say beautiful was a little more apropos."

Loki snickered softly, and wrapped his fingers around Bucky's forearm, giving him one sharp tug to bring him closer. "I've no use for pretty words, James. Do you want to do this?"

"Yeah," he murmured with a nod.

"Then cease your talking." Curling a hand in Bucky's shirt, Loki brought him back in for a hard kiss, and began to maneuver them both backwards toward one of the cushy sofas in the lounge.

Stumbling out of his pants, Bucky eagerly followed Loki, breaking apart only long enough to yank his shirt over his head. He grabbed for Loki again, latching his mouth to neck, shoulder, jaw—to the nearest piece of flesh he could reach—while the god's hands fumbled between them, trying to remove his own tight pants. Still, Loki arched into Bucky, a hand slipping up and curling into his dark, now loose hair to keep him close. Lost in the feel of Bucky's tongue and the rough scratch of his facial hair against his skin, he let out a quiet gasp as he tumbled to the sofa, with Bucky falling on top of him.

Finding Loki's mouth again, Bucky's kisses become even more aggressive; his tongue delved deep into Loki's mouth, his teeth scraped over already bruised lips, and Loki hissed and moaned loudly, wrapping a leg around him.

"Easy, lover. Do you wish to draw blood?"

"Seventy _years_ , Loki," the former soldier groaned. He pushed up to his knees and grabbed a hold of one side of Loki's open pants with his metal hand. "You particularly attached to these?"

"I'm not overly fond of them, no. Oh!" Loki's amused laugh echoed throughout the room after Bucky ripped the pants from him, throwing the tattered shreds of the black material aside. His eyes raked over Loki's form, pausing for a few long moments on his freed cock before deciding to crawl back over him.

"Not so fond of underwear either, huh? Must be a twenty-first century thing."

Loki lifted his hands up to cup Bucky's face, and brought their mouths together, kissing him slowly as they started to move against each other. "Just another barrier. Now…" He reached down to wrap his fingers around Bucky's cock, giving him a few cursory strokes, then positioned the head at his entrance, murmuring a short incantation to prepare himself. "Fuck me."

A guttural moan vibrated deep in Bucky's throat as he took himself in hand, brushing Loki's fingers aside, and lined himself up. He went still when he felt the wetness of lube. "What the…"

Loki huffed an impatient breath, pushed down enough to have Bucky just breaching him, groaning as he was stretched. "Nng-aahh…I'll explain later. Please…"

"Mm…" Pulling his hips back, Bucky teased Loki, barely inching inside him again. "How many mortals have gotten a god to beg like that?"

"Ehehe, none that lived to tell the tale. Move."

Balancing on his metal forearm, his flesh hand gripping Loki by the hip, Bucky slipped further inside him, groaning as the heat of Loki's body envelops him. "Oh, Christ," he growled, sheathing himself entirely.

Loki's back arched, nearly off the sofa, his fingers dug into Bucky's back, even as he breathed a short laugh. "No. _Loki_. Mmnh! Move, damn it."

A wicked grin twisted Bucky's face, and finding his grip on the sofa, on Loki, he started to move his hips, pushing into Loki completely again before pulling out, nearly all the way, and sliding back in. The pleasure he felt was strong, all-consuming, and had him gasping and moaning as he rocked against Loki, his hips snapping harder with each meeting of their groins.

This was so much better than the few times he'd made it with a girl, cramped in the backseat of an abandoned car in the old neighborhood.

Loki's eyes rolled back into his head, mewls and whines sounding in his throat with each of Bucky's thrusts. For once, reality was better than his imagination. But the deity sensed that, as much as they were both enjoying this tryst, Bucky was holding back. And just as he was about to speak up, Bucky wrapped his flesh fingers around his cock, and instead of the demand he had ready on his tongue, he emitted a high-pitched cry.

Bucky pushed himself up, tucking his knees further beneath Loki's body, and keeping his hand pumping Loki's cock, he trailed his metal hand up the god's long torso to slip into his silky black hair, and curled his fingers tightly. He gave it a tug, momentarily halting his hips at the pained cry Loki released. "Shit—sorry."

"No!" Loki's fingers wrapped around the metal wrist. "Do it again."

"…What?"

Midnight blue eyes went wide as Loki grabbed Bucky's face and brought his mouth down to his, mile-long legs wrapping around his waist to bring the assassin closer. "I am not a fragile female, James," he murmured against those full lips. "I don't want gentle."

Bucky leaned in for a kiss, but was swiftly denied, and he inadvertently moaned into Loki's mouth.

"Trust me. It will take more than your mortal form to break me."

Taking a nip of Loki's bottom, Bucky's fingers danced along either side of Loki's rib cage. "Wanna bet?"

"Mm, I'm not much for gambling, darling, but—" In the next second, the wind was knocked out of Loki as he was easily flipped over, a metal arm secured firmly around his waist.

Bucky leaned over him, pressing him with his full weight, moving his hands down to take him by the hips. "Y'might wanna grab hold of that armrest, Green Eyes."

The cry that Loki released as Bucky slammed into him echoed in the empty room.

* * *

On the quinjet, heading back to the Tower, Natasha spoke quietly into her headset, announcing their imminent arrival. Just on the edge of her peripheral vision she caught Clint intermittently giving short shakes of his head. Giving him a sideways glance, the redhead asked, "You okay over there?"

Clint didn't respond, or even look her way. His only response was to make a turn toward the Tower.

Taking no offense—the group tended, in general, to require some alone time after any kind of skirmish—Natasha affectionately rolled her eyes to herself, and set her controls to autopilot. "I'll be right back," she announced, removing her headphones as she rose and moved toward the rear of the plane.

She spotted Bruce first, wrapped in a blanket, listening to whatever it was today that was keeping him calm. Tony was beside him, reading through the damage on the suit from Jarvis, while absently rubbing Bruce's knee with his free hand. The scene drew a rare smile from the pragmatic agent. Tony was always a little freer with his affections after the Big Guy returned Bruce to him.

Continuing on, she neared Thor and Steve, who were quietly discussing Thor's perfect timing, as he had arrived back to Midgard just as the group needed him to help fight in the fray. "Hey," she said more as heads up to her arrival than a greeting, bending to pick up Thor's discarded cape. "Still picking up after you boys."

A sheepish expression on his bearded face, Thor took the cape, bowing his head. "Sincere apologies, Lady Natasha."

She gave a quick shake of her head. "Just Natasha." Thor nodded again. She knew she would have to correct him again in the near future. Looking to Steve, she crossed her arms. "Were you able to snatch up some of Clint's arrows?"

Steve winced slightly. "Only a few, just after he went down. Is he okay?"

Natasha glanced back toward the cockpit. "I think he might've knocked his head on something, but he should be fine. I'll do a more thorough check when we get back."

"No doubt you will." Thor froze, blue eyes growing wide at his suggestive remark, even as Steve and Natasha each give him a hard look. "I am sorry. I…" He frowned at himself. "I am not sure why I said that."

Steve snickered, and tried to cover it with a cough when Natasha aimed those mossy green daggers at him. "Sorry," he mumbled to her.

"No more late drinking nights with Stark, Thor," she muttered, starting to turn away.

"Yes. That may be wise."

Steve chuckled under his breath again, and remembering he had wanted to speak to Natasha privately, he rushed to catch up with her. "Hey, Natasha."

She stopped only when she felt his fingers gently touch her elbow. She faced him with a look that had him hanging his head. If she was smirking because she enjoyed giving a mild reprimand with no words, she would never admit it.

"This might sound weird, but…do you know of anything going on with Bucky?"

Her head tilted to the side, one hand moving to rest just above her utility belt. "I know he doesn't sleep much. I hear him roaming around sometimes, at night." She looked at Thor, raising her voice slightly. "And Loki, too."

Thor's brows rose, and after a thought, he nodded. "Aye. Loki has always been a light sleeper. He really only rests when necessary to restore his magic."

Natasha acknowledged that with a lift of one shoulder and returned her attention to Steve. "Why do you ask? You thinking something's off?"

Steve shrugged both shoulders, a deep line of worry burrowed between his brows. "He's been quiet." Natasha casually lifted a brow and the super soldier had to chuckle. "More than usual. I don't know. Just seems…like there's something going on with him. I don't want to push him to talk, though, you know?"

She thought it over for a moment. "Take it from someone who's been there?"

He nodded, perking up at the idea of some insight. But when Natasha just gave him that tiny smirk and shook her head, disappointment started to seep in.

"Don't pull too hard on that thread either. When he's ready to talk— _if_ he's ever ready—he will."

Brow furrowing again, Steve's eyes lowered slowly, sadly, but his jaw muscles clenched and he nodded once, firmly.

" _Coming in for landing!_ "

Natasha and Steve exchanged confused looks at Clint's unusual, and unexpected shout. Thor seemed to share the sentiment as he strolled over to join them again.

"Romanov, why is your boy toy screaming at us?" Tony asked, without glancing up from his Starkpad.

Natasha rolled her eyes and started toward the cockpit. "Don't make me tase you, Stark."

He snorted. "Try it. Then _you_ can deal with the Big Guy," he taunted, giving Bruce a nudge.

The scientist lifted his head, removing one earphone, and looked around, as if lost. "Hmm? What?"

Tony grinned at him, reaching up to muss Bruce's hair, and dragged him closer to press a kiss to his temple. "Nothing. We're almost home."

Natasha headed straight for Clint, pulling off his headgear when she reached him. Ignoring his irritated protests, she fished out his hearing aid, and a small flashlight from some hidden pocket on her uniform, and proceeded to inspect it. "It's damaged," she decided.

Clint tried to grab for the device. "What are you doing?" Unaware of the defection, he was still shouting. With quick sharp movements, Natasha signed that his hearing aid was hit and not working. Calming, the archer laughed and signed 'O.K.' "Wondered why you were so quiet."

"Idiot," she muttered with a smile as she took her seat again.

Moments later, they landed the quinjet at the Tower. Clint began to do a check of the quinjet as the engines died down, pausing when Natasha laid a hand on his arm.

"Leave it," she both spoke and signed. "We'll do a swipe in the morning."

"I can do it now," he replied. With a stern face, and a sharper movement of her hands, Natasha signed, "Later." Throwing his hands up in defeat, Clint set aside his clipboard and got to his feet. "Fine, stop yelling at me." Natasha gave him a shove, muttering something in Russian, but didn't oppose when he took her hand and started out.

Tony was about to fire off some directives to Jarvis when he noticed the couple heading toward him. "Are we not going through the rigmarole of weapons check and all that jazz?"

"Tomorrow," Natasha answered, with a quick swipe of her thumb down her cheek. "Clint's hearing aid is busted and I want to get him checked for a concussion."

"Great!" Tony exclaimed, immediately turning to Bruce, shoving at his earphones back over his head as he dropped to a squat in front of him.

"What?"

"Nothing, babe. We're home. How 'bout we take a tub and you can get that guilty look off your face?" The genius popped back up again, holding out his hands to the other. Moving slowly, Bruce nodded and let Tony help him to his feet.

"Aye, Man of Iron. I could use some form of refreshment myself."

"You're not getting in the tub with us, Point Break."

Thor laughed hard, just as Steve came up beside him. "Now there's a picture no one wants to see."

"Don't lie, Cap. You'd totally frame that Polaroid," Tony tossed over his shoulder as he led Bruce off the quinjet. Steve chose to ignore him.

"You're sticking around, right?" he asked Thor, who nodded and picked up Mjolnir and his tossed his cape over his arm.

"I am in no hurry to rush back to Asgard."

With a slap to his back, Steve motioned for Thor to exit the quinjet and followed, the last to step off. The bay doors closed as he did and they all trailed into the Tower near the kitchen, chatting amongst themselves.

Natasha and Clint paused by the dining table, as he fumbled with his cracked hearing aid. "Damn it. Second one in a month. They're gonna think I'm doing this on purpose."

"We all saw that hit you took, Clint. No one will question anything."

Tony made a beeline for the refrigerator, bumping into Natasha along the way, and earning a dirty look for not excusing himself. "Brucie, you want some juice?"

Still in a bit of a post-Big Guy haze, he shook his head. "Maybe later."

"You need to hydrate." Ignoring his lover, Tony grabbed a bottle of juice for them both and shoved one into Bruce's hand, earning a shy grin as a reward. Steve and Thor moved around the kitchen, quickly and efficiently, grabbing a power bar and a box of Graham crackers, respectively.

"Stark," Natasha called out. "Could you come take a look at this? See if you can fix it."

Tony crossed over to take the hearing aid from Clint and examined it, twisting it this way and that at eye level. "Yeah I think so. Might be able to improve the material. Make it less likely to break so easily." Lowering the hearing device, Tony glanced at Clint, tapping his arm to get his attention, and pointed at his own head. In his own shorthand style of signing, he asked, "How's the head?"

Brow furrowed as he followed Tony's movements, Clint snorted softly. "Fine. But I've still got a ringing in my ear." He rubbed the heel of his palm over his right ear as he spoke.

"I'll work on this. You got a spare?" Clint nodded and Tony turned his back to him, looking at Natasha. "You got this covered?" he asked under his breath.

"Yeah. Go. Take care of Bruce." She laid a hand to Clint's shoulder and motioned for him to get up. At the same moment, Bruce nudged Tony.

"Hmm?" Tony hummed the silent question, focused on the hearing aid in his hand. After Bruce nudged him again, he turned away to see the pleading look on Bruce's face. And softened instantly. "Okay, okay. Let's go," he agreed, wrapping an arm around Bruce.

As if as one entity, the group began to head for the door. And they all froze at a sound none of them expected to hear. A suggestive sound that had four heads turning to Tony—and one belated, befuddled look.

Tony scoffed. "It wasn't me, for fuck's sake. I'm standing right here."

Just then an emphatic _Yes_ came from the direction of the lounge, and this time, four pairs of eyes turned to Thor. The owner of that shout was very recognizably Loki.

The God of Thunder instantly went a bit red in the face and pushed ahead of the group, with Steve following closely. Taking Clint's hand, Natasha started after them, more eager than she would admit to find out what was going on. Tony repeated the action with Bruce.

One step outside the kitchen, Thor came to a stop, now that he understood more clearly what was going on. His face was still red, but now it was more from irritation at his brother's inappropriate behavior than embarrassment at finding him mid-coitus. Again.

Moments later, Steve jerked to a stop beside the Asgardian, spotting the broken stool, just as Loki tossed his head back, wondering why the one-time villain was naked and making those noises. His jaw dropped comically when Bucky surged up shortly after him and buried his face in the god's neck. Steve was the first to speak, as the others filed into the room. "Bucky!"

"What the—" Clint snorted loudly behind Natasha's hand.

Tony nearly skidded to a halt, his eyes wide. Beside him Bruce watched him nervously, but neither said or did anything just yet.

Hearing the commotion, Loki and Bucky both went still, their eyes meeting briefly before they both turned to look at their audience.

"Well, fuck," Bucky whispered, blowing a strand of hair out of his face, as a quiet _Ehehe_ sounded in his ear.

Thor took one step forward, blazing blue eyes boring into his brother. "Loki. You _promised_. After the dining hall, Mother's garden, and Father's throne, you promised, brother."

Still lightly panting, he chuckled again. "Is it my fault you choose to believe the God of Lies when he makes a promise, _brother_?" Loki's lips curved even more as Thor seethed.

"And what about you?" Steve aimed a hard look at Bucky and pointed to the broken stool. "You had one job, Bucky! What do you have to say for yourself, young man?"

Bucky resisted the innate urge to snort, and fell back to rest on his palms, shrugging. "You said you wanted me to make friends."

"Pretty sure _someone_ got a job done here," Clint muttered under his breath, able to follow along because of the raised voices and lip-reading. A snicker escaped Natasha, earning her a scolding glare from Steve. She answered with a challenging look of her own and he returned his attention to Bucky.

"I didn't mean with—" His words choked off, unwilling to insult Thor, or Bucky's taste. "Or that you had to—"

Loki groaned, rolling his eyes as he removed himself from Bucky's lap. "Do pardon us. It's not that this hasn't been amusing…" He stood and faced the others, making no attempt to cover himself.

Thor angrily huffed and looked up at the ceiling; Steve, likewise, darted his eyes away quickly, as Clint reached over to cover Natasha's eyes. She shoved his hand away.

"Jesus Christ, Reindeer Games," Tony muttered irritably, not bothering to look away. He didn't notice Bruce's casual impressed nod.

Smugly pleased with their reactions, Loki reached for Bucky's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Except that it hasn't, and, as you can probably guess, we are in the middle of something that is far more entertaining."

Bucky returned Steve's mock salute even as he let Loki lead him out of the room. A dark grin curved his lips as he watched Loki's ass.

"We're gonna have a talk, Barnes!"

" _Okay!_ " came the enthusiastic response. Steve groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I am sorry, Stark," Thor began, facing Tony. "Loki has a terrible habit of…erm, engaging his lovers in any spot he finds convenient."

"On my fucking couch?! I can't sit there now! And I am telling you right now, Shakespeare, when I give that thing the Black Light Special, if I find even _one_ splotch, one _tiny_ speck, you're paying for a new one!"

The genius started to storm out, making it only a few steps when Bruce gave one tug on his arm to stop him, and whispered briefly in his ear. Tony's face relaxed instantly—minutely—and he scrunched his nose at Bruce.

"Fine, then. Once I _make sure_ it's Loki's." He spun on the heel of his foot and aimed a finger at Steve. "Or Bucky's! And somebody owes me a new bar stool!"

Steve opened his mouth, but he had no response, and he simply watched Tony's back as he walked out, dragging a slightly blushing Bruce behind him. He shared a look with Thor again, the Thunderer's gaze reflecting a similar question in his own, he was sure. "Natasha."

Already nearly out of the room, Natasha came to a stop, shoulders hunching as she forced back the laughter Clint was having a hard time suppressing himself. "Yeah, Cap?"

Confused, irked, and only minorly embarrassed, Steve chose to ignore their tittering. "What…what is that? The Black Light Special?"

Clint let out a squeak, groaning when Natasha's elbow jabbed directly into his gut. Clearing her throat, Natasha pressed her lips together, holding on tight to what little control she had left. "You know, I think that's one you should ask Jarvis about. He can probably explain it better."

Disappointed _and_ relieved, Steve nodded and looked away, mind working.

"Hey."

Steve looked at her again. Her foot was in the elevator, holding the door open, while Clint waited inside, a hand still over his mouth.

"Pretty sure you know what's going on with him now." Her control slipped, a snicker escaping at the end of her statement, and Clint yanked her into the elevator. Steve scowled as the doors slid closed on the couple, leaving him and Thor alone.

"I would like to extend my apology to you, Captain."

"Why me?" He asked, glancing at the blond mountain of a man.

"Well…Barnes is your friend."

Steve brushed the apology off with a literal wave of his hand. "Bucky's an adult, Thor. He's responsible for his own actions. Honestly, I didn't realize he and Loki… _talked_ , much less…" He very nearly said fondue.

Thor grunted softly in agreement. "Nor did I, if that brings you any peace. Either way, I will be speaking to Loki of his intentions."

"What…" He chuckled for the first time since stepping foot off the quinjet and welcomed the relief of tension it brought. "You don't need to do that, Thor."

"No?" He frowned, apparently confused. "But, the soldier's honor…"

"No, no, no," Steve rushed to quiet the god. "Times are very different now on, um, Midgard. People…men, women even, they don't need to have intentions to…you know." He flicked a hand at the sofa.

Thor's brows rose in surprise. "Ah. Then I shall inquire for my own curiosity."

Steve laughed, clutching a hand to his chest, thoroughly amused. "So? Should we ask Jarvis?" Thor motioned for him to go for it. Steve glanced up, half-wincing, half-grinning. "Jarvis…?"

* * *

Loki collapsed in heap of slicked skin and lax bones to his bed, moaning as he rolled onto his back. With a long, low groan, Bucky slunk forward onto his belly beside the satiated god. "Fuck…" he murmured.

"Mm. My sentiments exactly."

Bucky snickered, turning his head enough to peek at Loki. He blew out a breath of air, making his hair fly, from didn't clear it from his face. Grinning, Loki reached out, using his pinky finger to brush the hair from Bucky's face and tuck it behind his ear.

"That wasn't so scary, was it?"

He tried to shake his head, but it took more effort than he could give at the moment, so he just hummed a quick, "Mm-mm."

Loki watched his hand as he trailed a finger over Bucky's muscular flesh arm. "Might you want to try it again at some point…" Black lashes fluttered softly as he lifted soft viridian eyes to Bucky's. "You know where to find me."

Finding his strength again, Bucky pushed up and slid a hand over Loki's belly, draping himself over the deity's slim body, and dragged him closer. "At some point? Baby, I'm gonna wanna do that again in about five minutes." Loki's lips started to lift in a smug grin, but it was stopped by Bucky's mouth on his. They kissed slowly, deeply, warming up to each other again.

Just as Bucky reached between their bodies to palm Loki's cock, a bolt of lightning struck just outside Loki's bedroom, rattling the windows. Loki chuckled deeply, keeping his lips on Bucky's skin even as the soldier looked away, toward the window.

"What the hell? It's not even raining."

"Hm. No, darling. That bolt came from an angry blond Asgardian." His ears pricked at the unmistakable sound of a certain God of Thunder nearing his bedroom.

"A what now? You have something to do with this?"

"Oh, we both did." He laughed again, as he slipped out from under Bucky and magicked his clothes back onto his body.

"Hey, what gives? I thought we were gonna—"

Bucky's words were lost as everything shook with Thor's landing on Loki's balcony with a loud thud. Bucky shot up to his knees, taking a defensive stance, while Loki simply rolled his eyes. Thor's voice boomed through the glass when he spoke. "Do you know what you've done now? Could you not have controlled yourself long enough to find a bed?!"

Loki shot a bored look Thor's way and reached for Bucky, pulling him from the bed. "Round Two will have to wait. Close your eyes, darling."

Thor dropped Mjölnir to the already cracked concrete, and slammed a meaty fist to the still closed balcony door, and miraculously, didn't break it. But a small crack did form in the tinted glass. Tony, being no fool, retrofitted the doors in Loki's bedroom with nearly unbreakable glass. He had learned his lesson three years before. "Loki, you—"

Ignoring his brother's incoming tirade, Loki made him and Bucky disappear, leaving only traces of green smoke behind. They landed in Bucky's sparsely decorated room, listening for Thor's bellowing. Loki could hear the Captain, and eventually the Widow, attempting to calm the blond oaf down.

"What the hell did you just do to me?"

Loki stepped back, holding Bucky at arm's length, pleased at the tiny manic smile on the soldier's face. The noise from the other level began to die down to a quiet din, and pushing it to the back of his mind, Loki ran his hands over Bucky's bare chest, letting his fingers move lightly over his metal shoulder. "Teleportation. Do you feel ill?"

Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, flicked his eyes up to Loki's. "No."

"Good. Some mortals don't handle it well."

"I'm not most mortals. Is your brother planning on killing me?" He asked casually, watching those long, thin fingers dance over his metal elbow, wrist, and then slide between his fingers.

"He might try." He smirked up at Bucky. "He won't succeed."

"You're telling me." Bucky's large hands framed Loki's hips, and easily lifting him from the floor, he flipped their positions, and pressed the god against his door. Loki's eyes danced with mischief and excitement, thinking he may have finally found a worthy partner in the bedroom. "Now about that Round Two…"

* * *

 **Feedback is always great, guys. Here are some translation. xoxo, La**

 **Translations:**

 **Ты так думаешь = You think so?**

 **лицо куклы = dollface**

 **солдат = soldier**

 **ублюдок = bastard**

 **Дерьмо = shit**


End file.
